


Alone, Together

by MildredMost



Series: Is This It [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, Dubious Consent, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, M/M, Orgasm Control, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-21
Updated: 2016-09-21
Packaged: 2018-08-16 14:14:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8105542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MildredMost/pseuds/MildredMost
Summary: Draco Malfoy is beginning to face up to the mess the War has left him in. Ron Weasley is an unexpected source of help.    “So, what. That’s it?” he said. “Poor Draco, all fucked up in the head, better not touch him in case he cries.” “For fucks sake…”“Because if you think waiting for me to get better is going to work...I mean.” He stood up, feeling anger blazing through him. “I’ve been like this all along, since we started. I just didn’t tell you. So what fucking difference does it make? You’re a mess too.”Ron reached out and put a hand on his arm. “Different kind of mess.”





	

It was 3am and Draco was curled on the floor of Ron’s bedroom, having a panic attack. 

It was a bad one. He couldn’t focus, couldn’t grasp back any kind of control. He wanted to get outside so he could breathe, but even with the orange glow of the muggle street light filtering through the thin blinds, Draco couldn’t find his wand or his jeans - couldn’t even accio them because he was shaking too badly. 

Ron was still asleep and at least that was something. Draco had been staying over about once a week since the drunken night Harry had discovered them. He’d somehow managed not to have had a panic attack in front of him until now. 

He pressed trembling hands against his eyes. There must be a way to think through this. But the black thoughts were defeating him, paralysing him with terror. _“You’re going mad. You ARE mad. You’re always going to feel like this, until you die_.” He began to sweat all over. His throat closed and almost without realising it he started gasping for breath. _This was it, this was it - this was the one that would kill him_. 

Suddenly there was a flurry of movement and Ron was crouched beside him, a large warm hand on his back and another on his chest. 

“Malfoy, what...” 

“I can’t...” Draco managed between gasping breaths, his terror outweighing his humiliation. His mouth was almost too tight to form the words. “ _Breathe_ …” 

And as suddenly as Ron had arrived at his side he was gone again. Draco was vaguely aware of the bathroom light going on, and a clatter of bottles. Then Ron was back. 

“This’ll help,” he said, taking Draco’s hand and trying to push a bottle into it. They both realised Draco was shaking too much to hold it so Ron held it to Draco’s mouth instead. He put his other hand on the nape of Draco’s neck, and Draco calmed a little just at the touch. 

“Here. It’s okay, it’s Harry’s. The same thing happens to him. Just drink a bit.” 

Draco in a moment of blind trust opened his mouth and let Ron tip the bottle into it. 

It only took one swallow. Just for a moment his heart sped up until he thought it really would burst. There was a buzzing in his ears and spots danced in front of his eyes. Then, nothing. 

A huge relieved sob pushed its way up his throat. _Not in front of...no._

He stood, shoving past Ron out of the bedroom and into the bathroom, locking himself in. Why do bathrooms always feel like the best places to cry in, he wondered, before giving way to it entirely.  He indulged himself for a good few minutes, sitting on the edge of the bath. Bawling more than crying really, but silently. It felt...good. An actual cathartic cry. He hadn’t thought those really existed. 

Enough, though. He pushed the heels of his hands into his eyes and forced himself to take deep breaths - in through the nose, out through the mouth - till he felt in control again. He looked at himself in the mirror; pink rimmed eyes and deathly pale skin. Had he always been this grey faced and gaunt? Perhaps he should eat more or something. _Vegetables_ , he thought vaguely. He grimaced at himself before bending over the sink and splashing some cold water over his face. Oh well. It wasn’t like he’d ever been a Blaise in the looks stakes. 

He slipped back into Ron’s room, not quite able to make eye contact with him. Ron had lit a lamp and was sitting on the bed, waiting for him. He’d pulled on a t-shirt and his hair was on end, and Draco felt a strange clutch at his heart. 

“You ok?” said Ron. “Feel better?” 

“Yeah,” Draco said. It wasn’t entirely a lie. “Thanks.” 

He sat on the bed which sagged and tilted him towards Ron. “Harry gets this too, then?” he said. Ron hesitated then nodded. 

“Harry’s were every day for a while. Hermione and me made him go to a healer in the end, I think he was too tired to care by then.” 

“Won’t he notice that I’ve had some of his potion?” Draco didn’t know how he felt about Harry finding out about his weakness. For a fleeting moment he wondered if Ron spoke to Harry about him. _As if._ You don’t speak to the person you’re in love with about the guy you’re fucking to pass the time. Plus, Harry was probably still tormenting himself over what they’d all done a couple of weeks ago. 

“Doubt it. He tries not to take it. Only if it gets bad, sometimes. He doesn’t think I know how bad it gets.” 

“Why doesn’t he just take it? If it makes it stop.” 

“He wants to feel the...the weight of it.” 

“The weight of what? Being a hero? Saving the world?” God, why was he always so petulant as soon as Harry was mentioned. 

“No. The deaths. All of them, for him. That’s what he thinks.” 

Draco thought briefly about the deaths that weighed on him - Crabbe, Professor Burbage, Dumbledore. He tried to imagine fifteen times as many pressing him down, turning his bones to lead. 

That was the difference between him and Harry, he supposed. He didn’t _want_ to feel it. If this potion would make it go away then fuck yes, he’d take it. Every single day, forever. 

“He would hate you telling me this,” Draco said. 

“So don’t be a dick and throw it in his face, then,” said Ron and Draco gave a small smile. 

“Do you have them too?” he asked. 

“Sort of. It’s...different for me.” Ron paused. “That thing Crabbe did in the Room of Requirement. The fire.” 

“Fiendfyre,” said Draco, flooding with shame at the memory of his part in that fight. 

“Yeah. My hair got burned. Smelled terrible. We were in the middle of a battle and all I could think of was the smell of it. Funny what you focus on when you might be about to die. And then. And then Fred…” 

Draco nodded. Ron said nothing for a moment, his hands fiddling with the edge of the bedcover. He sat forward, resting his forearms on his knees, the front of his hair falling into his eyes. Draco could see a pale strip of unfreckled skin on the back of Ron’s neck that must have been revealed by a recent haircut, and clenched his fist to stop himself touching it. 

“I thought I was doing ok, afterwards. Then months later I was in Kingsley’s office - I was his Junior. He was just clearing up his desk. He chucked a load of broken quills on the fire, and that was it.” 

“Same smell.” 

“Yeah,” said Ron, shooting a grateful look at Draco. “Same smell. All of a sudden I was back there. I could hear Percy screaming like it was happening again and I could feel that kind of...you know that feeling in the air when there’s been an Unforgiveable curse. I... I sort of collapsed. I dunno. Thought I was going mad. Probably was a bit.” 

They sat in silence. Draco couldn’t decide if it made him feel better or worse to hear all this. Were they all so broken?   

“What sets you off?” said Ron eventually. 

Draco shook his head. “I don’t know. It started when the Deatheaters…” he stopped. 

“They lived with you. Harry told us - he’d have visions; he could see what Voldemort saw.” 

Draco swallowed. _Visions of what_ , he wondered. Though Voldemort had never been present when the Deatheaters had been having the worst of their fun with him. 

“I used to sleep with them,” he said.   

Ron was waiting for him to speak, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t tell him any of it. He couldn’t bear the thought of hearing his own voice describing it; all poor me, poor me, weak and tearful and... fuck that. No. He gave his head another small shake. 

“Did you want to sleep with them?” Ron asked. 

“It was part of the...thing. Initiation,” Draco said, hoping Ron wouldn’t notice he hadn’t answered him. 

“But did you want to?” 

“I wanted to be one of them,” said Draco, and self-loathing lurched inside him, making him almost queasy. He could feel Ron’s eyes on him but he couldn’t meet them. Didn’t want to see what was in them. 

Ron’s fists clenched suddenly. 

“God, was it…? They made it so you need to ask to come. Is that right? They did that.” 

“Yes,” Draco said briefly. 

“They made you so scared to come, that you can’t without being told.” 

“Yes,” Draco said again and closed his eyes. 

 

 

 _“Let me hear you.” Yaxley had his hand on him, stroking Draco relentlessly._

_“Please,” said Draco._

_The slap across the face brought tears to his eyes._

_“Please what?”_

_“Please...please sir!”_

_“Don’t mark him,” said Rowle, his cock buried inside Draco and hands gripping Draco’s wrists behind his back. “Lucius is back tonight.”_

_“Please sir,” Draco gasped again. Rowle fucked him faster. “Please let me come.”_

_“No. I want you to hold it,” Yaxley said. He moved his hand faster, gripping Draco’s cock tighter._

_“I can’t, I…”_

_“Hold it.”_

_“Oh…” Draco tried to twist out of his grip, but Yaxley wouldn’t stop. Draco moaned, started to tremble._

_“Don’t you dare, you little shit.”_

_He couldn’t...couldn’t hold on. The hand on his cock was relentless. Draco locked eyes with the hooded man, saw the dark amusement there. His humiliation pushed him over the edge._

_“Oh, please sir. Sir…” Draco shuddered and thrust upwards, coming helplessly into Yaxley’s fist. He could feel himself tightening around Rowle’s cock and heard Rowle grunting with pleasure._

_“Fucking little…” Yaxley slapped him again. “You’re disgusting,” he said, wiping the come onto Draco’s face. “Fucking disgusting. You know what happens now, don’t you?”_

_“No,” said Draco, still shaking. “DON’T. My father. I’ll...”_

_“You’re not going to tell daddy anything, we both know that,” said Yaxley. “Now be a good boy and take your punishment, and you’ll keep getting all that dick you like.”_

_He unzipped his fly and stepped forward, putting his wand against Draco’s cock._

_“Oh, don’t, DON’T.”_

_“Wait till I’m fucking finished,” panted Rowle. “I can’t come when he’s crying.”_

 

Draco opened his eyes again. 

“Vicious, fucked up bastards,” said Ron, with quiet violence. 

_And I’m one of them_ , Draco thought. 

“Could you have told Snape or…” 

“No,” said Draco, his voice coming out stronger than he’d hoped. “He didn’t know. And, you don’t understand. It turned me on. Even when I hated it, it turned me on. It wasn’t just them; it was me too. I’m…” he spread his hands, lifted his shoulders. _Incredibly fucked up_ is what he wants to say. 

“No, you’re not,” said Ron. “I don’t do whatever the fuck it was they did. And you like what I do. I mean, I don’t exactly know _why_ …” 

“Because you turn me on too,” said Draco, and watched as Ron’s eyes went wide. God his eyes were blue. Stupidly blue. And Draco was staring. He looked away. 

“I don’t exactly know _why_ …” he mimicked, breaking the moment. 

“Draco,” Ron said and breathed out. 

Ron had never called him by his first name before. Well, maybe once or twice when he was about to come or something, but never sober and like this, looking at him as though he was something wonderful and not a complete shambles of a person. 

Ron had never had any fucking taste. 

Draco leaned forward and kissed him. 

Ron made a startled sound and Draco kissed him harder, bringing a hand up to hold onto the back of Ron’s neck and pull him closer. He pressed a hand to the front of Ron’s shorts and sure enough there was the beginning of something there. Draco hitched himself up and straddled Ron on the bed, grinding down on him, Ron’s face against his neck. A quick, hard fuck was just what he needed to forget all this shit in his head. 

“Come on,” Draco said, and arched against him. He pushed him backwards onto the bed, kissing him fiercely. Ron rocked himself against him, hardening with every movement. 

“Do you think you can come without me telling you?” he murmured. “I didn’t the first time we did it. If I don’t say it, won’t you just…” 

Draco felt a clutch of panic. He didn’t want to think about this. “No. I can’t. Don’t make me beg you, _don’t_. Not you, I…” 

“Hey... _hey_ ,” Ron paused, looked right at him. “I won’t. I’ll say yes when you ask me, I promise you. We don’t even have to...” he moved back onto his elbows, leaning away from Draco. “We can stop. We could go and watch Muggle horror films on the tv instead. They’re _mental_.” 

Draco couldn’t help a short laugh. “I don’t want to stop.” 

“You’re upset,” said Ron. “It’s been a weird night.” 

“I’m always sort of...upset.” Draco didn’t know how to explain that there were always dark, punishing thoughts at the edges of his mind, looking for a way to push in and burn through him like acid. “I always feel like this. It doesn’t matter. You’ve got to ignore it.” 

“Yeah because ignoring how you felt worked so brilliantly when the Deatheaters did it.” 

“I just said I wanted to carry on, didn’t I? Why is it ok to ignore _that_?” 

“I dunno, it’s. What you just told me, maybe we shouldn’t be…” 

So this is where being honest got him. He should have known better. He didn’t want to think about this, about any of this. Fuck Ron for bringing it up. He felt his temper spark. 

“So, what. That’s it?” he said. “Poor Draco, all fucked up in the head, better not touch him in case he cries.” 

“For fucks sake…” 

“Because if you think waiting for me to get better is going to work...I mean.” He stood up, feeling anger blazing through him. “I’ve been like this all along, since we started. I just didn’t tell you. So what fucking difference does it make? You’re a mess too.” 

Ron reached out and put a hand on his arm. “Different kind of mess.” 

But Draco was too far gone. He shook the hand off. 

“The whole fucking point of this is that we don’t care about each other. We can just do this because we want to, so I don’t have to think about anything…I don’t want to have to _think_...” 

“So you read my thoughts instead,” Ron said. Draco stopped, his stomach turning with guilt. 

“I feel you in there,” Ron said. “I know you’re spying on me when we fuck. I wish you wouldn’t.” 

“I don’t,” Draco lied. _Oh fuck, fuck_. 

“Draco,” Ron said. “Look it’s okay. I haven’t really tried to stop you. But...” 

“I _don’t_.” 

“I can feel you do it. I’m not completely thick, whatever you might think.” 

Draco felt red hot with shame. All this time he thought he’d been getting away with it. And Ron had only been tolerating it, for...well he couldn’t work out why. 

“It’s not like there’s much to read,” he snarled. 

“Don't be a prick,” said Ron. He ran his fingers through his hair, pushing it out of his eyes and looked up at Draco with a steady gaze. 

Draco gave up. 

“I know I shouldn’t. I do know that,” he said. “I’ve just always done it. it’s better than being in my own head.” 

“Always? Every time you...?” 

“I used to like knowing it would be over soon,” said Draco and Ron looked at him in horror. “That’s not why I do it with you,” Draco said quickly, but Ron had pressed his hand to his mouth as though he suddenly felt sick. He had gone quite pale beneath his freckles and Draco cursed inwardly. 

“What I did, at the Ministry,” Ron said slowly. “That spell. Did it...did you even want to do anything with me, or...I mean. Did you do it because you felt like you should or something? I trapped us in there, you were scared. I didn’t…” 

“Oh get over yourself,” Draco said. Ron looked up at him, startled.  “That was all my idea and you know it. In fact…” he took a breath. “That’s probably the first time it ever _has_ been my idea. So you don’t get to take credit, thanks very much. And you didn’t seem to be complaining.” 

“No,” said Ron, a little colour coming back into his face. “That definitely isn’t how I complain.” 

“Well not unless, ‘please please, do it harder, you’re so hot’ is you complaining.” 

“I don’t remember that bit,” said Ron, a grin playing at the corner of his mouth. “Sounds more like something you’d say.” 

“Oh, really,” said Draco, raising his eyebrows at him.

Ron reached up and grabbed one of Draco’s hands, and Draco moved forward to lean his shins against Ron’s knees. “So, you’re okay with this. Doing this. I mean,” Ron ran his hands up the back of Draco’s thighs and Draco bit his lip. “You’re a dickhead, but I’d really, really prefer to be sleeping with someone who isn’t kind of...just tolerating it.” 

“I’m okay. And…” Fuck it. “I read your mind because I want to know what you’re thinking about me, not because I want it to be over.” There. He had laid himself utterly bare now. He couldn’t get any lower. He waited for Ron to take the piss but Ron was only looking at him again with an expression he couldn’t understand. 

“I can’t see how you even get any sense out of me,” he said. “When I’m with you, when we’re...Even just kissing you, I _can’t_ think. Your mouth…” 

“Yeah, you like my mouth,” said Draco, and just like that his shame was dispersing, being replaced by the usual charge of lust he felt in Ron’s presence. “Your thoughts are pretty clear on that.” 

Ron let out a surprised laugh. “Yeah, I do. I really, really fucking do.” 

“Lets...” said Draco, making a movement towards him. 

“Okay, but Draco,” said Ron before Draco could do anything. “Just be with me. Stay out of my head, and _be_ with me. See if you find something you like.” 

Draco was about to come up with some smart-arsey retort, but Ron drew Draco gently down next to him, placing a kiss on his throat, and he lost his train of thought. 

“What do you want me to do?” Ron said, his eyes searching Draco’s face. 

Draco felt a spark of shame at this gentle treatment, and tried to feel angry instead. He wanted to say that he wanted to be held down and fucked hard. To have his hair pulled. To be told he was filthy. That even though the Deatheaters had messed with his head, he still knew what he liked; he wasn’t some fucking virgin, trembling at the thought of being touched. He wanted to tell Ron he didn’t have to fuck him out of pity or convenience and even if he did, he didn’t have to be gentle about it. 

He took a breath and looked at Ron for a long moment, his hair a red spill of brightness against the white of the sheets. He could see the rise and fall of Ron’s chest and the tension of his shoulders through his t-shirt and realised suddenly that Ron was nervous. And not only that, but that he wanted Draco. Desperately, even. But he was holding himself back, waiting for Draco, letting him decide. 

Draco didn’t know what to do with this realisation. Ron had never been able to keep his hands off Draco before, and Draco had loved it, loved goading him into that mixture of anger and lust that Draco craved. He didn’t know what he wanted now. Being present in his own head made everything feel so immediate and almost too much. 

“Touch me,” he said at last. 

Draco jumped as Ron lifted his hand and traced it down the side of Draco’s face. It was the last thing he had expected. Ron smoothed his thumb across the sharp planes of his cheekbone and then down, curling his fingers around Draco’s jaw, thumb tracing Draco’s lips. Draco’s eyes closed with the intimacy of it. 

Ron stroked along Draco’s bottom lip again, and Draco opened his eyes, lips parting. He pressed his tongue against Ron’s thumb, tasting the salt of his skin; Ron’s eyes went black at the sensation. He opened his mouth wider, sucking Ron’s thumb into his mouth a little way, reaching for him at the same time. Ron slid against him, parting his legs as Draco pressed his knee between them. He took his thumb out of Draco’s mouth and replaced it with his lips. 

He kissed Draco lightly once, twice on the mouth and pulled back before kissing him along his jaw, the lobe of his ear, his throat; nipping and tasting. Draco had never been kissed by him - by _anyone_ \- like this before. His breath was coming in small gasps, his heart thudding. He felt ripped open, exposed. 

Ron pressed his mouth back against Draco’s, biting gently down on Draco’s bottom lip. He moved his hand to Draco’s hip, sliding beneath his underwear, his thumb stroking gentle circles in the hollow of Draco’s hipbone. This tiny touch, so different from what he was used to, drove Draco half wild and he groaned into Ron’s mouth. He forced himself to believe that Ron wouldn’t mock him for wanting to be touched gently, for letting himself enjoy this. 

 

 _Dolohov kissed him gently, his hands on Draco’s waist. Draco sighed and sank against him._

_“I can’t believe you let me kiss you so sweetly,” Dolahov said a nasty smile spreading over his face. “After what I just do to you. What the fuck is wrong with you?” He grabbed a handful of Draco’s hair and yanked his head back. “I should make you sick.”_

 

 _He wasn’t going to think about that_. But he should just check, just slip into Ron’s head for a moment, a heartbeat. Make sure he wasn’t being pathetic. 

He sent the tiniest, most subtle flicker of magic out that he could. 

“Draco,” Ron breathed. “Don’t. You don’t need to.” 

Draco froze, face reddening. 

“I’ll tell you what I’m thinking,” Ron said. Draco’s heart thumped with anxiety, but Ron just slid a hand into Draco’s hair and pulled him closer.  “I’m thinking how good you look,” he grazed his lips across Draco’s, “And how much I like the noises you’re making, and the way you’re looking at me. And your mouth is...Jesus, it’s…” 

Draco breathed out as Ron ran out of words and instead teased Draco’s lips apart and slid his tongue into his mouth. Draco’s limbs felt weak with want as he tasted Ron back. His mouth opened under Ron’s again and again as they kissed deeper and more frantically. He hadn’t known it could be like this, that kissing could overwhelm you as much as being fucked did. He didn’t want it to stop, yet he wanted more; he wanted Ron everywhere. 

Ron pulled back for a moment to pull off his clothes and helped Draco do the same. Feeling less vulnerable on this familiar territory, he pulled Ron down on top of him. Ron breathed out hard, running his hands down Draco’s chest and stomach. 

“You can touch yourself if you want to,” he said, sucking one of Draco’s nipples into his mouth and flicking it with his tongue. Draco moaned. “Touch yourself anywhere you like. And you can come.” He had moved onto the other nipple now, licking and biting it gently while Draco squirmed against him. “Any time you like. Is that...does that cover it?” 

The words could have sounded mocking if Ron hadn’t said them so earnestly. _So Gryffindor_ , Draco thought abstractly. “Yeah,” he said to Ron as Ron worked his way down Draco’s stomach. “That should…” 

He tailed off as Ron spread Draco’s thighs apart, getting between them. Draco’s pulse quickened wildly as Ron dipped his head to Draco’s cock. _Oh_ , oh God no… 

Ron licked the length of him and Draco cried out, twisting his whole body away. 

“Shit, sorry,” Ron said, startled, his eyes wide. “I didn’t know you didn’t like that.” 

Draco was breathing hard, realising he’d been expecting pain but felt only pleasure. The only time anyone had sucked him before had been just after he’d come and he’d been too raw and sensitive to find it anything but awful; usually done by some other poor fucker they were tormenting, forced to clean him up while Draco begged them to stop. 

It hadn’t felt like that this time. 

“No, I...” he looked up at Ron. “I think I do like it. Do it again.” 

“You’ve never done it before?” 

Draco must have let his expression change slightly because Ron blinked suddenly and said “Oh,” and sat back a little, but Draco said “ _Please_. I want you to.” 

Ron still hesitated. 

“I want you to,” Draco said again, and stroked himself up and down, slowly. Ron made an inarticulate little noise and bent down between his legs. 

Ron pressed his tongue to the base of Draco’s cock and licked him wet and hot, right to the head. Draco gasped and grabbed above his head at the iron rail of the bedstead. Fuck it was good. _So good_. He moaned as Ron licked him again.  Ron glanced up questioningly at Draco as he lay panting. 

“Fuck, you look amazing,” he said and took the tip of Draco’s cock into his mouth.  Draco’s eyes fluttered closed. Fucking... _God_. Ron sank his mouth lower and he felt any control at all slipping away from him. He had never come inside anyone before. But fuck, he was going to, he was going to, it was too much with Ron sucking him right in, slow and hard, and his arousal building and building. 

For once he wanted to savour it, to try and hold on, to let go when he wanted to, not just because he was helpless to do anything else. “Slow down,” he managed, feeling his hair damp against his forehead, trying with sheer force of will to keep his body flat against the bed and not thrust as hard as he could into that wet heat. 

Ron did, drawing his mouth up and off and only sucking lightly at the head. Even that was almost too much. 

“ _Oh_...wait, wait” Draco said. “Give me a minute.” 

Ron did, leaning up over him, and Draco tangled fingers in his hair and pulled his bruised mouth down onto his own. Ron’s mouth tasted of Draco’s cock and surely that shouldn’t turn him on as much as it did, but he got so hard at the thought of it he could hardly breathe. 

Ron’s own cock was trapped between them as Ron deepened the kiss, and Draco got a hand around it, sending Ron panting against his mouth. 

“Draco...” he moaned. He thrust against Draco’s hand as though he could not help himself and his cock slid in Draco’s grip, slick with his own wetness. Arousal shuddered through Draco at the thought that Ron had got this hard, this near just by sucking him. For once he was having to sense when to speed up and when to slow down rather without reading Ron’s thoughts. But he could tell from the rhythm of Ron’s breath and the low moans and the trembling thrusts that he was getting it right. 

“Don’t stop,” Ron said. “Oh fuck, don’t…” 

Draco arched up against him. “Hold me down,” he whispered, not quite able to ask out loud. “Hold me down and come on me.” 

Ron looked down at him, eyes dark, chest hitching. For a moment Draco thought he would refuse, like he’d always refused to call him names or humiliate him, or go along with his need for permission. But then he spoke. 

“That’s what you want?” 

Draco nodded, stretching his arms above his head and arching against Ron again. Ron knelt up, a knee on either side of Draco’s thighs, one strong hand pinning Draco’s wrists to the bed above his head. With the other hand he began to stroke himself. 

Draco squirmed a little in his grasp, the strength of Ron’s grip turning him on more than he thought possible. Ron was close already, every muscle in his body taut as he neared his climax, helpless little sounds coming from him. Draco felt dizzy with lust watching him. 

“Look at me,” Ron gasped. “Fuck, please.” 

Draco raised his eyes to Ron’s and was locked there. Somehow this was more intimate, more sensual than anything else they had done and Draco almost finished then and there watching Ron coming as he looked into Draco’s eyes. His come striped hot across Draco’s chest again and again as Ron’s cock jerked in his hand, the pale freckled skin of his chest and throat flushing pink. 

“God, Draco…” 

He released Draco’s wrists, shaky and panting, and lowered himself down against Draco, snatching a fleeting kiss. 

“You think I’m filthy, don’t you,” Draco murmured. 

“Yeah,” Ron said, with a breathless laugh. 

“Tell me I am,” Draco said. His cock was pressed between them and he didn’t know if he’d ever been so hard. 

“You’re fucking filthy,” said Ron kissing him slow and hard, his body flush against Draco’s, damp with sweat. “And fucking gorgeous. And the thing about that is you don’t seem to know you are, which is weird because you’re up yourself about almost everything else. About total shit in fact, that no normal person cares about, like where your father gets his ...” 

“Weasley this is the absolute worst dirty talk I’ve ever heard,” Draco said. “The only thing that could make it worse is if you started talking about your mother.” 

“Christ,” laughed Ron and kissed him again, pressing against Draco and making him lose his breath. “How about if I stop trying to tell you you’re the dirtiest fuck I’ve ever had,” Draco felt himself flush red hot all over, “and just suck you off hard till you come in my mouth. Better?” 

“Better,” gasped Draco. “Better. Yes. _Oh_ …” 

Ron had bent over him again, taking the whole length of Draco in immediately this time. Draco cried out, his hips snapping up before he could stop them. He propped himself on his elbows, looking down at Ron’s mouth around him, and the pale lashes against his freckled skin, and the way his cheeks were hollowing as he...oh fuck, _fuck_. 

“Lie back,” Ron said, breaking away for a moment to suck one of his own fingers. Draco did, hands pressing into the mattress, trying to brace himself against the intensity of the hot, insistent pressure of Ron’s mouth. 

Ron slid his mouth back down Draco's shaft to the hilt, and at the same moment pushed his wetted finger inside him. 

Draco made an obscene noise and thrust upwards. Ron took him all the way in, fucking his finger in and out of him at the same time and Draco lost any tiny bit of control he had been holding onto. 

“Ron,” he said. “ _Ron._ ” He spilled again and again into Ron’s mouth, the sensation of being _inside_ almost too much. He began to tremble all over and covered his face with his hands to shut out at least one sensation from his overwrought senses. Ron pulled his mouth away just as the intense pleasure started to become too much, and kissed his way up Draco’s body to his mouth. 

They lay together for a few moments, Draco’s breathless trembling slowly calming against Ron’s warmth. 

“You called me Ron,” said Ron eventually, dropping a kiss on his shoulder. “I dunno if I’ve ever heard you do that before.” 

“Did I?” said Draco, lips lifting into a half-smile. He knew it wasn’t the first time he’d slipped but Ron had thankfully always been too distracted to notice. It didn’t seem so wrong now anyway. “I don’t remember.” 

“Fair enough; you were coming like the Hogwarts Express at the time,” said Ron. 

“That’s a bloody horrible expression,” said Draco, starting to laugh. 

“Descriptive though,” said Ron and pulled Draco against him. “Sorry I’m shit at dirty talk,” he said. “I can work on it. No parents next time.” 

“I don’t even want to know why my father popped into your head at that particular moment,” said Draco. 

“Shut up, I... fucking hell. It’s half four in the morning,” Ron groaned, catching sight of his watch. “I’ve got a meeting at nine. I am going to be _useless_ at work today.” 

“I wouldn’t worry Weasley,” said Draco, sliding an arm around him and letting his eyes close. “I doubt they’ll notice the slightest difference.” 

“You’re such a dick,” said Ron contentedly, nuzzling into Draco and falling asleep instantly.

And Draco, for the first time in weeks, slipped into a deep, completely dreamless sleep. 


End file.
